Seul Choix
by dcat8888
Summary: Continue's on with what might have happened after the episode, 'The Birthday Present'


Seul Choix

by dcat

I don't want to give away the whole plot here at the top, but the words Seul Choix are pronounced SIS-Shwa.

The rest of the notes are at the bottom of the story, if you have to know ahead of time, go ahead and read them.

This also is a story based upon the episode, 'The Birthday Present'

I do not own the characters of Hardcastle and McCormick.

OOOOO

Hardcastle knew that a ten-minute talk with McCormick from a hospital intensive care room wasn't about to begin to convince him that he'd done the right thing by killing Weed Randall. And maybe the 'right' thing wasn't the best way to put it either. Hardcastle had shooed the kid out in order to watch a John Wayne movie, and now that it was on, he wasn't really watching it, he was thinking about McCormick and the conversation they just had had. What had he said to him exactly? Something about making hard choices in a moment's notice, ah, he couldn't remember now. Hardcastle was still in a great deal of pain and medicated heavily as he tried to recall what he had said to Mark. "I told him I was proud of him," he said aloud to the empty room. _Ah, he knows what I was trying to say_, Milt reasoned to himself, or did he? With McCormick you could never be quite sure. Some shades of doubt began to creep in as Hardcastle rethought the whole conversation.

He knew the kid had listened intently as he tried to explain to him about making split second decisions. Sometimes there was only one choice to be made. He saw the kid hanging on his every word, hoping to make some sense of what had transpired, what he had done and ultimately finding some peace of mind and move on. McCormick kept looking back though. It was going to take some time and maybe something a little out of the ordinary to turn him around and point him in the right direction again.

Hardcastle also saw McCormick's body language, still shaking from the horror of taking another man's life, his face was full of fear and sadness, his shoulders slumped, a forced smile, all of it very un-McCormick like. All that worried Milt as he lay fairly helpless in the hospital bed. McCormick heard what the Judge said to him well enough, it was just going to take some time to process it and make sense of it and to know he made the only choice he could make.

As Milt laid there in the hospital bed, he knew that this, this was going to take more than words and more than ten minutes to fix. And there wasn't much more he could do from a hospital bed anyway. But he did have the beginnings of an idea.

Milton C. Hardcastle knew better than anyone that feeling, that terrible, gut-wrenching, hollow-pitted, empty, numb sadness that McCormick was experiencing. He had been a cop and had been in nearly the same type of position more than once. He was somewhat surprised by the way that the kid had admitted it out loud, but then again, the kid surprised him in a great many ways, none of which was more important than being a friend, one of the best friends Milt had ever had.

Now Hardcastle needed to help McCormick. Taking someone else's life, no matter what the circumstances, was well, taking their life. He now knew weighed heavily on his mind. Hardcastle thought back to his own first days on the police force, it was the best and only way he could try to relate it to Mark. He'd been in exactly the same place as Mark was in now. Milt felt bad that he couldn't be there for McCormick at home during this hard time to help him work through this. He'd be home soon enough and he'd take it from there. Even so, Milt knew that killing someone would remain in your head for the rest of your life.

Lying in the hospital bed gave Hardcastle way too much time to think back. It made him mad when he heard people tell him that it would get easier. That was a lie. Killing never got easier, and you didn't forget, it never went away, at least not if you wanted to remain a part of the human race.

That was probably the biggest reason that Hardcastle hated about being a cop and that's why he became a lawyer. He knew how hard it was on him and could only imagine what it was like for Nancy and Tommy. He closed his eyes and continued to remember back when he was a rookie cop and as he drifted off he began to make his plan.

OOOOO

"A real vacation?" Mark asked as Milt presented the idea. "I mean, what did Charlie say, are you really healed up enough to go off somewhere?"

"He said I could go a couple of weeks ago. Have you been listening at all? Geez, I thought you'd jump at this, you're always complaining about chores and work and here I am offering you some good old-fashioned R&R and you're hemming and hawing about it. I don't get you McCormick," Hardcastle was surprised he had to convince him. It was all part of his plan though and he had to control the smile that wanted to burst out on his face. He relished the chance to needle McCormick at any chance he could.

Mark shrugged and wore a puzzled look on his face. "Well, I just want to make sure you're okay. You haven't been out of the hospital that long."

"Quit worrying about me, I don't need a mother, or a nurse maid, because I'm fine I tell ya. Start looking ahead instead of behind will ya?" He paused, "'Sides, there's a bit of a catch to this anyway," the Judge let out.

The concerned look faded from Mark's face and now the smart aleck face started showing, followed by the sly grin, "There always is!" He let out a 'ha.' "If you're telling me we have to track down some bail jumper or some mafia-type low life, we're not going, I know Charlie wouldn't say you're okay for that."

Hardcastle rolled his eyes. "There's no catch like that. There's no criminal element involved. It's just doing a favor for an old friend."

The suspicion came back again to McCormick's face. "I'll bite, what's it all about Hardcase? What kind of favor exactly, and don't leave anything out?"

The Judge pursed his lips, McCormick could be like a cranky old woman at times. "It's not what you think. This friend of mine bought a new sailboat and he wants us to sail it from the shipyard to his cabin," Milt explained.

Mark was not buying any of it, especially when it sounded way too good to be true. There was some sort of ulterior motive going on but McCormick just didn't know where this thing was going. He knew the Judge well enough to know that there was much more to this than a sailboat. "Why can't your friend do it himself?" He raised one eyebrow as he asked.

"Cause he's a Federal Judge wise guy and he's just beginning a big anti-trust case that's likely to take several months to conclude. And he's in Washington."

"So why is this boat and cabin in Michigan, and how exactly do you know this guy?"

"Ah, he's a judge? I'm a former Judge. Does that ring a bell in your pea-brain? How would you think I know him?" There was no sense in telling him everything just yet.

McCormick scowled. "Okay, well what about Michigan then?"

"His family is from Michigan. They've lived there for generations, right outside of Detroit and they have this great old Northwood's cabin up in the UP. You'll love it, real comfy."

"The UP?" Mark asked.

"You must have skipped Geography huh?" Milt asked sarcastically, "The U is for Upper the P is for Peninsula. I've been out there once, it's a great place, just beautiful and the fishing is outstanding." The Judge acted as if he was tired of talking, "Listen, what's it gonna be? Do you want to go or not?"

Mark was more intrigued by the second now, this did sound pretty good. Getting away from LA and trying to forget sounded better than good. It would almost be a chance to start anew in some odd sort of way. Maybe that's what Hardcastle was trying to do too, not just for him but for both of them. It had been quite a physical and emotional ordeal for the Judge. Mark had tried to block out seeing the Judge get shot right there in the courtroom. He couldn't even imagine how the Judge was processing everything. Yeah, this would be good for both of them, he thought and outwardly he chided the Judge, "You need to promise me that we're not going to go all this way, just to turn around and come back because you hear about some crime on the radio," he said referring to the last time the two of them went on a fishing trip together.

Hardcastle remembered too and held up his hand, "Promise. We won't even bring a radio along. This is just you, me, the sailboat and a week of smooth sailing and fishing. You'll love it, what do you say?"

Mark nodded, he was sold. "Sounds good, it sounds real good."

OOOOO

Milt had watched him closely over the last month. In many ways, they had both fallen back into their routine and slowly McCormick was returning to his old form. Still, Hardcastle knew from his own personal experience that the kid was still questioning his decision to pull the trigger on Weed Randall, in fact he was still questioning a lot of things and most of all hoping that nothing like that would ever happen again. This trip was going to help. Heck, it had helped the Judge all those years before. It had to. There was a lot to learn from sailing and they'd spent a week planning and plotting the course they would most likely take and Milt was busy giving McCormick some of the finer points of sailing.

"We'll fly into Minneapolis, then get on a special charter that's going to take us up to Escanaba. From there we find the shipyard, pick up the boat and start sailing," Milt explained as they headed to the airport.

"How'd you get us on a special charter?" Mark wondered.

"Called in a favor," Milt said, looking out of the truck window, watching traffic.

"Is there anyone that you don't personally know that doesn't owe you a favor?" Mark jokingly asked.

"Probably somewhere," Hardcastle returned the joke, "It's not really a favor, you know you just make friends along the way and that's the sort of stuff friends do for one another," he added, with a serious tone. Then he completely changed the subject. "You never traveled much as a kid?"

"Me? No!" Mark said with a scoff. "If we went to New York it was a big deal. I remember the first time my friend's Dad took us to Yankee Stadium. I was about eight I guess. We sat up so high I thought I was going to tumble out of my seat all the way down to the field," he paused to recall, "It was great though, I got to see Mickey Mantle play, that was pretty special," Mark recalled fondly. "What about you?"

"We never went too far either, but my Dad would take my brother and me for weekends and maybe once a year for the week we'd go off a little farther and do some fishing or hunting," he turned briefly to see that the kid was listening to his story so he continued. "Nancy, she loved to travel. She'd get so excited when I had to go off to some sort of judicial conference and she'd beg to come along. We had a lot of fun on those trips and then Tommy came along and we'd head up north and the like with him, do some sailing, fish a little, hit the beach, sight see. It's good to take vacations."

McCormick nodded, "I know what you mean, that's one of the reasons I liked racing, you know traveling around to the tracks. Most of the guys, they'd sit around the track house and play cards during down time, but me, I'd go off and explore the towns or see the sights. They thought I was an idiot, but I didn't care, you can sit around and play cards anytime, that's what I'd tell 'em. Saw a lot of stuff on my own that way. I've never been to Michigan though."

Hardcastle didn't say anything for a long while, then he added, "This'll be good for both of us."

OOOOO

The small chartered plane that brought them from the Twin Cities into tiny Escanaba, Michigan was about as near perfect a plane ride could be. The weather was clear, there were fair winds aloft and they both seemed to be able to see for miles from the rather nice accommodations aboard the twin prop plane.

The man the Judge knew had a truck waiting for them at the airport. They would drive that over to the shipbuilder where they would take possession of the new sailboat and then head east for their final destination.

"The name of this sailboat is _Decisions Decisions_?" Mark asked as the smile swept across his face as he re-read the letter that Henry Wilson had left in the truck. "You guys are all the same aren't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" The Judge asked him.

"That all you ever think about is judicial stuff," McCormick cracked.

"I'll have you know that Henry Wilson is one of the best Judge's this country has ever seen. So what if he comes up with a judicial type of name for his sailboat. Seems to me you call yourself Skid Mark out on the race track, what's the difference?" The Judge asked him.

"All right, you made your point," Mark conceded and decided on a new line of questioning. "When did you learn to sail Judge?" Mark asked.

"Nancy actually taught me. Her father took them out all the time, her and her sister that is. My mother-in-law never cared for it, but both girls took to it like they'd been born out there. I guess I enjoyed it too because we kept doing it and then Tommy came along and he loved it too. There were times we'd go out almost every weekend. Every sail is different, but if you know the basics you can pick it up pretty quick and have some fun too."

"Did you have your own boat?"

Milt nodded the affirmative, "We did for awhile, we called it _Second Wind_, nothing judicial about that is there?" Hardcastle added in reference to the name of Henry Wilson's boat. Once Tommy hit high school, he never seemed to have the time for it and then I was spending a lot of time at work, so we decided to sell her. Sometimes I miss it though, I know Nancy did," he said longingly, "The cost of upkeep and slip fee's is kind of crazy though, that's what makes doing this sort of thing pretty nice, you know a chance to be out on the water again and leave all the financial and maintenance worries to someone else," he smiled and laughed.

"I think that's the entrance to the shipyard up there," Mark pointed out as they drove along.

Milt pulled in and they both got out and headed toward the office building to see about the sailboat.

OOOOO

"Since it's going to take them a few hours to finish detailing her, why don't we head into town and grab some chow?" Milt tossed out as they headed back to the truck.

McCormick looked back one last time at the gorgeous sailboat. "I'll tell you something Judge, you sure have some great friends that is one helluva boat that he's going to let us sail. It's huge! Did you see the bathroom in that thing?" Mark was obviously impressed.

"I'll agree with you on the great friends part," Milt said casually, wondering if the intended meaning was getting through to the kid. "And yeah, I did see the bathroom, but it's not called a bathroom, it's called the head," he reminded the kid about the new sailing vernacular he needed to remember. Then he changed the subject back to food. "Hal told me about a good restaurant in town, let's go check it out before we head out, it might be the last meal we get till we find the cabin."

Mark gave him a questioning look, "I thought you said the fishing was great up here? We shouldn't have any problem with food."

"The fishing is great, but that doesn't mean _you'll_ catch any," Hardcastle teased. "It takes some skill to hook one, you know?"

"It can't be too hard to throw a line with a hook on it into some water," McCormick said, with a bit of a pompous attitude.

"You're assuming the fish are going to just jump up and take your bait," Hardcastle remarked.

"Of course they will, you know beginner's luck and all," Mark kept up his smart aleck remarks.

"You're no beginner," Hardcastle scoffed while reminding him.

"I am to this area," Mark continued, "That ought to count for something. It sure is beautiful up here, the air's so clean and there's tree's everywhere. A guy could get lost pretty easy I bet. Hey look, there's a lighthouse over there," he pointed out with his youthful enthusiasm.

"I think that one's called Sand Point, there's quite a few scattered along the lake around here, it can be a tricky sail out there on the lake, but if you know how to look for lighthouses, they'll guide you through the rough spots. That particular one lets you know there's a sand bar out there and to watch out for it. I'll show you how they work when we get out there. There's the restaurant Hal mentioned, let's get some food."

OOOOO

They had a nice lunch and got back to the harbor where the boat was docked and was finally ready to go. They loaded up their gear and prepared to leave.

They headed out and Hardcastle began sharing the knowledge he had about sailing to McCormick. He explained to him the fundamentals about tacking, trimming, jibing and heading and showed him the basics of knots and as promised, how the knowledge of lighthouses can be used as a guide as they set out just past the Sand Point Light. McCormick soaked it all in, happy to be thinking about something else besides Weed Randall for even just a little while.

The Judge let McCormick take over the sailing, once they were out past the harbor and the slightly dangerous sandy reef. He took a seat off the tiller and leaned back to relax, while keeping one eye on Mark and making sure he was following the directions that he had given him. The kid was full of concentration initially, almost being robotic like in his maneuvering, but gradually he began to relax and settled in. McCormick in turn, watched the Judge closely too and decided to breach the subject of his health.

"Judge?" He began, "Are you feeling okay?" He'd seen him take a rather deep, yet what appeared to be a strained breath.

"Me? Yeah, I'm just fine kiddo, this just brings back a lot of memories. It just sort of hit me all at once, you don't mind taking over there do ya? You're doing just fine." Hardcastle gave him a bit of encouragement and hoped it would also turn his head back to sailing and off of his injury.

Mark gave him a smile, "Naw, I don't mind taking over, this is fun, but I guess I just wanted to make sure you weren't sick or something. You seem sort of tense?" There, he'd said what he wanted to say.

"Something like being not healed up?" Hardcastle asked as he saw Mark shrug. "Charlie said I'm all fit," he looked at Mark again, who wore a look of skepticism, "Okay, maybe not 100 percent, but I am well enough to take this trip," he paused and added, "I think we both needed it."

McCormick looked down at the sole of the boat to avoid the glare of the Judge, but he finally added quietly, "Yeah, you're right about that." He paused and added, "Do you ever think about it though, I mean him shooting you."

Hardcastle barely moved his head, "Of course I do, but it's like sailing, keep your eyes looking where you're going, not where you were. I can't change any of it."

"That's the truth," he let out a deep breath, but as quickly as he let it out, his attention turned to the wind and correctly tacked upwind to keep the sailing smooth. Hardcastle saw the tiny hint of a smile on Mark's face as McCormick realized that he had made the proper move. Mark glanced over to the Judge and raised his eyebrows as if to say, 'how was that?'

The Judge didn't give him any sort of response. He went back to the topic of Weed Randall. "Does it still bother you?" Hardcastle asked for the first time since that time in the hospital. "I mean, that you killed him?"

Mark didn't answer verbally, he simply nodded the affirmative.

"You know, I don't mind if you want to talk about it some more, we've both sort of danced around it for over a month now," Milt began. "There's no time like the present right?" The wind changed a little and Hardcastle watched as McCormick adjusted for it perfectly once again and kept the boat in smooth water. He allowed himself the tiniest hint of a smile, when he knew the kid wasn't watching him. It was working.

"I don't want to bring it up if it's going to make you feel worse. I mean, the guy damn near killed you. I imagine you want to forget it more than I do," McCormick started. "Besides we're supposed to be out here enjoying this," he flung his hand around to indicate the beauty, "Not dredging up what's quite possibly the worse day of both of our lives."

Milt cocked his head, "It's amazing how you do that, go from one end of the spectrum to the other in the same sentence. You didn't even stop for air."

"I'm just saying it, you know?" McCormick reiterated.

"Look at it this way, we both made it through, there's got to be something to be said for that? So talk."

Another wind shift came upon them and Mark shifted his focus and his sails accordingly. But this time when he completed his tack, he went back to the discussion they'd begun, completely comfortable in how he was sailing the ship. "I keep replaying it, all of it, everything that happened, everything I did, everything Sandy did, everything I said and thought. And I wonder if anything I did was right."

"No wonder you need this trip?" Hardcastle said, trying to lighten up the conversation. That got one of those 'fake hospital room smiles' from McCormick. Milt knew it really didn't work. "Okay, well, take it through step by step for me then."

McCormick sort of grimaced at the thought. "Judge, really, it's supposed to just get better in time right? I don't know if it's such a good idea to go through all this, to keep dredging it up."

"Too bad, we started, let's keep going. What exactly are you questioning?" The Judge tossed out to him.

McCormick glanced out at the water and then at the sails, while Hardcastle watched him as he took complete control of the boat. The kid was a natural at sailing. He had great instincts. Must be sort of like racing in a way, Milt thought. He knew how to work with the boat, just like he knew how to work with the car out on a track. The Judge watched as McCormick noticed the wind was going to change yet again and began making his adjustments as the shift in the breeze began to take hold. "How was that?" Mark asked the Judge, wondering if he'd maneuvered the right way.

"Damn near perfect kiddo," was the Judge's short answer as he glanced out and felt the breeze on his own face and knew the kid was executing correctly. "I don't think I'd have done it any better myself." He saw the kid take a deep breath and relax even more, loosening up his hand on the tiller.

"I like doing this a lot Milt, I can see why you and your wife loved it so much," Mark admitted sincerely. He waited to gather his thoughts before going back to the topic at hand. "Judge, I knew in the hospital when we were waiting to hear how you were that Sandy was going to go off the deep end. I could see it. I should have stopped him then. I don't know how exactly but, maybe I could have called the cops or something. Or I don't know, maybe in some strange sort of way I wanted Sandy to go after him so that I could be the hero. Or maybe I'm just wondering why I didn't go off myself bent on vigilante justice." He looked Milt square in the eye and said, "You are supposed to be my best friend and all I did was sit at the hospital and hope and pray you wouldn't die. Some friend huh? I mean, why didn't I rush out of there like Sandy did? Maybe I'm just nothing but a chicken when it all gets said and done?"

The Judge shook his head at him, "I don't believe any of that and neither do you," the Judge said.

"No? Then why did I just let him go. I could have even stopped him again in the parking lot, did I mention that?"

"Here's rule number one McCormick, you're responsible for yourself, not for someone else's actions. Pretty soon you'll be telling me you could have stopped Weed from shooting me in the courtroom."

Mark shrugged and timidly said, "I've thought about that too. I wondered if I didn't let Sandy talk me into delving into his case in the first place."

"I didn't really mean that," the Judge said rolling his eyes. "Stuff happens, it's gonna keep happening, you can't stop it and you need to learn and be confident in the choices you make, especially the gut-wrenching, hard ones, you need to learn to trust your instincts," the Judge tried to explain. Taking another tactic the Judge forged into another area, "Forget about Sandy and Weed. What about the choices you did have control over?"

"You mean like pulling the trigger," Mark said sorrowfully.

"No, that's not what I mean," Milt chastised him. "Back up a little, what about in the courtroom?" The Judge said.

"Whatta ya mean?" Mark wasn't following.

"After Weed shot me, what did you do? Did you chase after him then? You know out of the courtroom?"

"No," McCormick said softly, "I ran up by you to see," he stammered a bit, "Well to see if you were okay."

"See, that was good thinking, a good decision, good choice," Milt said repetitively, "Going to the aid of someone who was injured, that's what you're supposed to do."

Mark stared right at him and nodded no.

"What? You disagree with that do ya?" Hardcastle wondered.

"No, I suppose not, I just never looked at it like that, that's all."

If only Milt could give the kid the smile he wanted to, but he wasn't even barely started in trying to make the kid see he point. "After that what did you do?"

"I, uh, had someone call an ambulance and waited with you."

"What else?" The Judge kept at him.

Mark looked away out onto the water, "Sandy said you were dying and I told him to shut up."

"Why?"

Mark thought about his answer for a moment and then said, "Cause they say even if you're unconscious you can still hear and I didn't want you to hear that."

"And what's wrong with that decision?" The Judge pushed on.

McCormick was starting to see the pattern. "Then I went to the hospital and waited and prayed and hoped more than I've ever done in my life that you'd survive." Hardcastle listened and nodded. Mark kept explaining. "Then Sandy went nuts and I wasn't even going to go after him at first, I wanted to make sure you were going to be all right, but the doctor said there wasn't much else I could do at the hospital and I thought that maybe, I could stop him…" he suddenly stopped talking, realizing what he had just said.

"Aha, you wanted to stop Sandy from doing something stupid, now that's a really good idea kiddo!" This time he gave McCormick a grin.

"But it didn't work," McCormick quickly sunk his attitude back down.

"Did the telephone work the first time for Edison?"

"You mean Alexander Graham Bell," McCormick shook his head in disbelief, "Edison invented the light bulb and neither one of them ever killed anyone," Mark fired back.

Hardcastle all but ignored the kid's accurate look at history. "I read the report McCormick, you followed Sandy and you told him to stop, to not go after Weed in that parking lot, but Sandy ran after him and got shot by Weed anyway." McCormick nodded the affirmative. "Then, according to the report you warned Weed three times and he still was going to shoot Sandy again, then maybe you too. Is that what happened out there or not?"

McCormick let out a long deep breath, "Yeah, that's exactly what happened, and then I pulled the trigger. Maybe he wasn't going to shoot him again, maybe he was going to throw his gun down. I'll never know now. I don't know if I gave him enough time. I just don't know."

"You gave him three chances," Hardcastle said.

"It's not baseball Judge, I took his life," Mark said defensively.

"You know you don't have to have a smart aleck answer for everything?" Hardcastle knew what he said wasn't what McCormick wanted to hear, "Look, I know you did and there's not much I can say about that, and neither one of us can change the outcome, but I think the decision you made out there was the only one you could make. He was probably going to kill Sandy and maybe even you."

Mark listened carefully and wanted to believe what the Judge was trying to tell him. "I hear what you're saying."

Hardcastle nodded, still unsure that the kid really understood but he felt like they had talked it to death. "Let's get back to this sailing this thing."

OOOOO

"This looks like the harbor we might be looking for?" McCormick asked him as they came around a bend as they followed the lakeshore and saw a large protected area of water.

"Nah, that's not the harbor, that's Big Bay De Noc, we still got a ways to go. We want to swing our way through those islands up there and then head north by north east," Milt motioned, eastward and waited to make sure that McCormick spotted them as he pointed.

"Gotcha."

"Want me to take over?" The Judge asked.

McCormick nodded no, there wasn't a chance he was going to give up what he was doing anytime soon, he was having way too good a time, "I'm fine, you can just relax," Mark smiled at him and looked out to the horizon.

"I am relaxed," he paused, "really Mark, quit worrying about my health," he added for emphasis, using McCormick's first name.

Mark decided from then on to drop the topic of Milt's recuperation. "Looks like we may have some weather coming in Judge," Mark nodded toward the northern sky and how it was clouding up.

Hardcastle agreed, "Yeah, could be a little rain, maybe we can out run it with any luck, it doesn't look to be anything more than that. You're sure you want to keep at it, we can find a harbor nearby and head in to dock her and wait till it passes?"

"No, I think we should keep going and try to get to the cabin, besides, if it's just rain, it can't be all that bad right?"

OOOOO

When they got near the small town of Manistique, they could see the Poverty Island lighthouse and by then a light drizzle had started, but the waves on the lake weren't too choppy yet, so they determined to continue on.

Back to the open water now, no islands in sight, not much of anything in sight actually due to the fog that set in now along with the drizzle, they both had grown silent and stoic, just like the weather. North of them again the sky they could make out was billowing and growing even darker.

"You want me to take her yet?" The Judge offered, knowing that they were going to head into a something more than a foggy drizzle. He'd gone below and pulled up some rain gear for each of them to wear.

Mark nodded no, he was really focused on what he was doing now, completely devoid of the memory of Weed Randall and all that sadness it brought him. He had a job to do right at the present and he was going to do it. Nope, now he had to concentrate on what he was doing with the sailboat while keeping another eye on the encroaching storm.

Milt wondered if McCormick had any idea of what he was in store for as he got up and moved forward to begin to take down the jib as soon as the weather would strike them. Things would get a little hectic, a whole lot more tricky and maybe even a little dangerous. Even so, the kid wanted the chance. Milt kept his confidence in McCormick high, realizing that he was doing everything that he himself would do if he were at the helm.

And then the sky broke open. The rain began pouring down in droves and then the thunder and lightening began to convulse and fill the nearly black sky.

Milt brought the sail halfway down as the squall began to pelt them, wind blowing drastically and powerfully whipping up into a certified frenzy. He got the main sail trimmed close to the center line, but the volatile wind pushed the sailboat over.

"Release the main sheet," Milled screamed at Mark from where he stood on the bow. He saw the fearful look in Mark's eyes, realizing at first he must have wondered what the main sheet was. Milt tried to recall if he told him that term or not. Surprisingly, Mark didn't panic, but held closely onto the tiller, trying to keep a foothold on the slanting platform of the boat.

The Judge worked his way back from the jib and nearly slid down the deck and released the main sheet. The main sheet immediately luffed and the boat headed back into the wind and the platform leveled off. Then Hardcastle returned to the jib, which had started to raise itself and brought it back down. They rode like this, directly with the thunderstorm until it finally passed over them and then Mark spotted the lighthouse.

"Judge?" Mark shouted through the still driving rain. "There's a harbor coming up! I'm gonna take her in." Another dark area of clouds was forming near them and was going to pound them again. McCormick thought it would be best to get her into a safe harbor, rather than risk damaging the boat or either one of them.

Hardcastle scanned the horizon and spotted it as well. Indeed, that's what he had been waiting for and it wasn't a moment too soon either. He knew they had to be close. _Yep, you found it kiddo! Perfect!_ Milt thought to himself. He over-exaggerated a nod for Mark to continue on with the choice he had made.

Mark kept his eyes glued to the beaming light intensely and spotted the how the waves were breaking over a fairly huge shoal. In order to get into the harbor, he needed to navigate his way around it, avoiding the dangerous reef. He took several deep breaths and remained focused on the job before him, getting the Judge, himself and this multi-million dollar sailboat safely into harbor. The breaking foam seemed endless but the beacon from the tower was doing its job to indicate where the safest passage around the mammoth shoal was and Mark followed it toward a safe and secure resting place.

Milt left the jib and came back by McCormick. As he got nearer, he heard the kid murmur a quiet but awe-struck, "WOW," to describe what he had just sailed through. _Wow indeed_, Hardcastle wanted to echo the same sentiment, but he let the moment go by in silence, letting McCormick take in the sheer delight of what he had just accomplished.

They came upon the tiny harbor now, about a dozen boats were already docked and Mark easily worked his way into a nearby empty slip. The hard part was done, just as another thunderstorm began to crack over them.

"We're here," Milt said as he finished tying the boat to the dock.

"Whatta you mean we're here? I thought we were just sailing in here to get out of the rain," Mark said.

"Nope, this is where we need to be, Seul Choix Pointe. Henry said he'd leave us another truck here that we can drive over to the cabin. Normally we'd dock out on his property, but his project for this summer is to get a new dock built on his place. Last fall he ripped out the old one, so putting her in the harbor here is where she'll stay."

McCormick wasn't really listening to what the Judge was even saying. He kept looking out past the harbor back into the lake. "That was intense," he finally said.

Milt chuckled at him. "You did a good job out there, kiddo. That was quite a storm. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were a fairly experienced sailor."

Suddenly McCormick was getting his voice and talkative nature back. "What the hell is the main sheet anyway? You never said anything to me about that," Mark chided him for leaving out what he thought was some rather important information.

"That's why I headed up front, sorry about that, I tried to give you enough of the basics, but I guess I forgot a few things."

"Forgot? We might have been killed out there," McCormick added.

"Oh, we wouldn't have been killed. You knew what you were doing," The Judge added. "And I was right there with you, we would have made it one way or another."

"I'm glad you thought so, 'cause I sure had some doubts," Mark added a slightly nervous chuckle.

"Yeah, maybe, but you did it," the Judge reassured him.

They took their time locking up the boat and making it ship shape, before they got into the truck and started to drive off.

"What did you call this place?" Mark asked as he let the Judge do the driving.

"Seul Choix Pointe."

"That's French?" Mark asked. He pulled a map out of the glove box and tried to find it on the map.

"Yep, the French fur traders came through here and named it I think. Henry told me something about it years ago."

"Hey, let's go find that lighthouse?" McCormick suggested. "I mean we ought to take a peek at it right? She sort of pointed out the way to safe harbor for us."

"Sure we can do that," Hardcastle said, turning away so that the kid couldn't see his own beaming face.

OOOOO

Later that night, when they had settled into the cabin, started up a fire in the massive fireplace and had a great steak dinner in the nearby town of Gulliver, McCormick decided it was time to put some closure on this day. They had indeed checked out the nearby lighthouse and he found out what the words Seul Choix meant.

He walked into the den from the bedroom where he had put his gear and saw the Judge reading the local newspaper.

"Only Choice?" was all McCormick said as he walked into the room.

"What?" The Judge set down the paper as he saw Mark sit down across from him. "What the hell are you babbling about now McCormick? Didn't you talk enough already today. I thought I'd get a few minutes of peace and quiet. Can't you sit down and relax for awhile, in silence?"

"Seul Choix means _only choice_," McCormick repeated.

"So?" Hardcastle was doing his best at acting as if he didn't know the history.

Mark gave him a grin. "You are really something else Hardcase! I know you didn't plan the storm, well about 99 and 9 tenths sure anyway, heck, even you have some earthly limitations, but how much of this other stuff did you _plan_ ahead?"

The Judge responded with a laugh. "I had no idea that thunderstorm was going to come up on us. I'm good, but not that good."

Mark let out a genuine laugh, "Then I'm right? You knew exactly what this sail was all about. When exactly did you come up with all of this? I know this isn't some sort of crazy coincidence. Seul Choix, I can't believe you talked me into this. All this way just to prove some sort of point to me?" McCormick was on a bit of a rant. "What's it all about Judge, you may as well tell me now?"

"I got the same lesson thanks to Henry back in the early '60's," the Judge started.

"Why?" McCormick was intrigued and still couldn't find a connection between himself and Hardcastle and this particular trip, but he sure wanted to know now.

"I was a cop and I had to make a decision pretty much just like you had to with Weed, whether I should pull the trigger and end someone's life." McCormick sat quietly and things started to fall into place as he listened to the Judge's memory. "Henry's best friend Matt Bohler was my partner. The suspect shot and killed him. And I had to decide right then and there what I had to do, just like you did, and I killed him." He paused and let McCormick soak in what he had just said, and relived the bad memory himself. Then he continued to tell the story. "I didn't even know Henry back then since they both grew up here in Michigan, but he came right up to me at Matt's funeral and invited me out here and we made the same sail. And it cleared up a lot of things for me, I was hoping it would be the same way for you. Sometimes there's only one choice to make, like finding this safe harbor." He looked over to McCormick, "I don't know how he knew that it was what I needed, maybe he had some sort of similar experience himself, he never did tell me," Milt shrugged, "Maybe he was just thinking about Matt, but after I made the sail, he told me all about Seul Choix and what it meant and it made things a lot easier for me."

"I imagine it's still sort of treacherous getting around that shoal in good conditions huh?" McCormick asked, thinking of how they got around it in the thunderstorm.

"I don't know, Henry brought me through it at night, in the fog, he knew I'd sailed before, and that's why I wanted you to do it during the daylight, I wanted you to have an easier time with it than I did, I had no idea that a storm like that would brew up." He gave Mark a sincere smile, "You did it though, that was a helluva decision you made, the right one, the only one, that is."

"Which one are you talking about?"

"Now you're catching on kiddo," Hardcastle smiled again and continued, "You always have choices to make when it comes to every situation, but just like that sail, you chose the one that was the best one all the way around, for you and me, for the boat, the same thing that afternoon with you and Sandy and Weed. Quit looking back, just look forward, otherwise you'll miss the next decision completely, because you're looking in the wrong direction. Just like today, you got through the storm, then you made it through the shoal, now if you'd been looking back at the storm, we would have ran aground," Hardcastle let the silence drift between them and then added, "and the good thing is there's always that light to guide you, to light up the path for you, follow that too. Trust your instincts, they're pretty good, but you already know that."

"All right, all ready, you made your Seul Choix Pointe okay?" Mark gave him a smirk, he paused and then went off on another tangent and asked, "Hey, did you know that lighthouse is haunted? Yeah, a real live ghost lives there. I think I smelled the cigars in there, you know the ones they said he smoked? And when I was going up the tower I heard the footsteps too…"

"That was just the keeper following you up," Hardcastle said, knowing that Mark had indeed come through the storm.

"Nope, no it wasn't, I went up there alone, pretty freaky huh? Hearing his footsteps right behind me. And then down in the dinning room, the knife moved, yep, I know you don't believe it Judge, 'cause I know you weren't paying attention, but first it was to the left of the plate, like a regular setting and when I turned back around, there it was lying right on the plate, and no one else was in there but you and me, so how do you explain it?" McCormick didn't wait for any sort of response, he just kept rambling on, "That's right Judge, old Captain Joseph Willy Townshend. He died upstairs in that one bedroom. The only thing I didn't see was the Bible closing. Yep, a real, honest to goodness ghost, how about that? That's something you don't see in LA now, and I'm not talking about Elvis. What a great trip…."

He kept on going on and on.

OOOOO

Here are the linear notes:

The words are French and they mean 'Only Choice' and again are pronounced SIS-Shwa. The French trappers named the area as was a safe harbor of refuge, especially during storms. It is indeed, also the name of a lighthouse in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. (Haunted too by the way) I had the pleasure a few weeks back to visit it. Not the prettiest nor the most unique lighthouse I've seen, but it certainly tops my list of _favorite names_ for lighthouses. I love saying it and I certainly love the meaning of the words. And of course, it gave me the name for a story, before I even figured out a plot, and that could be a first. Some of the facts are true, some are unknown, I'll leave it to you to figure out what's what. I tried to be as accurate on the sailing stuff as I could, but I'm really a novice myself.


End file.
